


Winter Walls, Warm Halls

by mrhd



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 09:19:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1220950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrhd/pseuds/mrhd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anthony Stark has taken over as Lord of Winterfall after the death of Eddard. He's left with a castle to run, the North to lord over, and five kids to take care of. Luckily, he has the handsome Ser Steven Rogers to help him out. (Game of Thrones Crossover)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter Walls, Warm Halls

**Author's Note:**

  * For [slashersivi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashersivi/gifts).



> Delayed cross-post from LJ. Written for the Cap-Iron Man Holiday Exchange.

The storm throws snow against the windows, rattling them. Soft whooshes of air echo through the walls of Winterfell.

Lord Anthony Stark may have the best room in the castle, and the warmest knight in the world curled against him, but the chill still permeates through their mound of furs.

Awakened by the noise, he rolls his head away from its spot against Ser Steve Rogers’ soft hair and looks at the window. It’s too dark to see much of anything, but the white snowflakes stand out against the blackness.

Beside him, Steve makes a soft noise and shifts closer. “It’s cold,” he mumbles, his breath a warm brush against Tony’s shoulder.

“And you’ve lived in the North with me for how long?” Tony asks, laughing slightly.

Steve grumbles unhappily. “Too long.”

“You don’t mean that,” Tony says, tugging just a tad too hard on Steve’s hair.

“Not if you start a fire.”

“So why don’t you start the fire?”

“Too cold,” Steve grunts. “It is at least somewhat warm under the blankets.”

“You Southerners are such wimps.”

“Don’t you have servants to do this for you?”

A loud crack interrupts their conversation.

Steve swears.

Tony laughs at him and soaks up the warmth as he prepares to leave the bed to start the fire.

But then the door creaks open and two small heads poke through.

“Uncle Anthony?” Sansa asks.

Tony smiles at her and sits up fully. “Come on in, sweetheart,” he says.

Losing two parents had been hard enough on the Stark children, far worse a thing than they could ever deserve, and Tony finds it difficult to deny them anything.

Sansa, Rickon bundled in her arms and Bran clutching at her free hand, shoves the door farther open with her shoulder and steps in.

Bran leans back and shuts the door with a loud thump.

Rickon and Sansa both flinch slightly at the noise.

“Ser Steven,” Sansa says, recovering gracefully. She frowns slightly at the two of them, looking slightly puzzled.

Their relationship isn’t exactly something that they broadcast, but it isn’t something that they take a great deal of care to hide either, especially not within the walls of Winterfell. There’s no need for either to produce heirs and none of the other gentry take notice, as long as they aren’t too overt. Nasty whispers are unavoidable at court, anyways. Tony thinks that Robb and Jon have probably figured it out, although neither of them have said anything. The others are too young to really take notice of such things, although he supposes that Eddard Stark certainly had never had handsome knights sharing his bed.

Steve smiles charmingly at Sansa. “Milady,” he says. “I must say that it is far warmer under these furs with another. Would you like to join us?”

Tony smiles at him. The kids might not understand Steve’s role in his life, but he’s cute and charming and a knight, so they all at least enjoy having him around.

Tony takes a sleepy Rickon from Sansa’s arms and settles him in his lap. Sansa and Bran climb on the bed, crawling up the mattress to settle between Tony and Steve, Bran pressed against his side and Sansa against Steve’s.

Steve smiles at him over their little heads.

“Ser Steven?” Bran says hesitantly, kicking his legs to settle the blankets around him in a way he prefers. It clearly doesn’t matter to him that the movement exposes Tony’s left thigh to the cold air.

Tony bumps Bran with his hip and scoots them all over a bit.

“Yes, Milord?”

“Could you perhaps tell us a story?” Bran asks, wriggling a little in excitement. “Of one of your quests or adventures?”

“Ohh, would you please?” Sansa asks, looking pleadingly up at Steve.

It’s Tony’s turn to grin. Because if Tony has a hard time denying the kids anything, Steve downright spoils them rotten.

“What gives you two the impression that I’ve been on any quests?” Steve says. “My job is to protect your Uncle’s sorry butt.”

“Hey!” Tony objects as the kids giggle.

“But you’re a knight,” Sansa insists. “You must have done something.”

“It’s not actually as glamorous as it’s told to be, Dear Sansa,” Steve says, pulling her into his lap. “It’s mostly just tourneys and body guard detail.”

Sansa frowns.

“Oh, don’t look like that,” Steve says gently. “It’s a good thing my job is a little boring. That means there’s not a war going on.”

Sansa sighs and sags back against his chest. “Tell us about a tourney then,” she says. She sounds put out, but Tony can see that her eyes are wide and excited.

“Please?” Bran adds.

“I might be convinced…” Steve says slowly. “If only there were three more sets of eyes pleading with me.”

Bran is up like a shot. “I’ll go get them!” he says, dropping off the bed and running through the door and out into the hallway.

Tony laughs. “Now you’ve got them all excited,” he tells Steve. “And they’ll never get back to sleep.”

Steve just shrugs and grins at Tony.

They can hear footsteps pounding down the stone halls several moments before the rest of the kids come bursting through the door.

Despite their shorter treads, Bran and Arya come crashing through first, pushing each other, both trying to get to the bed first. The end up tangled together at the foot of the bed, laughing.  
Tony starts chuckling, as do Robb and Jon. Robb scoops up Bran and Jon, Arya.

“Ready?” Jon says, holding Arya up under her armpits.

She nods and Jon makes eye contact with Steve and Tony, aiming the little girl before he tosses her towards the head of the bed.

She doesn’t go very high, or far, but Arya still lands in a heap giggling.

“Hey, rascal,” Tony says, scooping her into his side. He kisses the top of her head and Arya giggles again.

“Me, next!” Bran says, standing on the bed and bouncing.

Jon scoops him up too and tosses him next to Arya.

Bran laughs, which sets Arya off again, and the two kids dissolve into fits of laughter, leaning against each other.

Sansa rolls her eyes at them. “Stop it, you two! Ser Steven is going to tell us a story.”

Arya and Bran both quiet, and Arya huffs slightly before flopping against Tony’s side.

Robb and Jon both have settled calmly at the foot of the bed. They’re both trying to look and act like adults, but they still squirm slightly ever couple seconds and Tony can see on their faces that they’re as excited as the younger ones.

“Well, go on, good Ser,” Tony says, tilting his head towards Steve. “Regale us with tales of extraordinary valor.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Well there was the time I had to save you from drowning in that river…”

Tony glares at him, but the kids’ attention snaps to Steve.

“Uncle Tony fell in a river?!” Arya asks, delicately as always.

“He did indeed,” Steve tells her.

“I was pushed,” Tony insists.

“By what?” Steve laughs. “The wind?”

“Your horse.”

Steve shakes his head, smiling his charming grin. “No, kids, here’s what really happened…”

Outside the storm continues. Wind batters snow against windows and walls and roofs. But the walls of Winterfell, have seen, will see, worse. Inside, the fire remains unlit, but the bed is warm with bodies and stories and laughter. There too, have been, will be far worse things. But those things are not now, which is what matters.  



End file.
